


How I Met Your Mother

by CobaltStargazer



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, Ignoring Bad Writing, Mental Health Issues, Pregnancy, Schizophrenia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 12:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4478729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltStargazer/pseuds/CobaltStargazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever Diana is or isn't, she loves her son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How I Met Your Mother

"My son is coming for a visit."

Diana said it out loud, but although there was an orderly not five feet from her, she was saying it as much to herself as to him. She didn't always recognize Spencer, know who he was, and when she was lucid she knew that that lack of recognition hurt him. Not that he ever spoke of it. Her son was too kind for that, and whatever pain she'd caused him it was beyond her control. The cruel irony, or perhaps it was just God's idea of a joke, was that she was the more functional _parent_ , if not the more functional human being. William had left, and that had hurt them both, but even in the depths of her illness she had been aware that there was a baby and then a child and then a young man and finally an adult named Spencer Reid. Not always that he was _her_ child, perhaps, but his face, so like his father's at one point, was a reminder.

So that was why she said it. Because she wanted to remember, remember that this was her son in case her mind slipped away from her again.

Her was bringing someone, the woman he'd told her about. They'd lost touch, and then he'd found her again. He'd spoken of her in his letters, and she'd latched onto the hope in his written words as certainly as if she felt it herself. Diana was aware that there had been another, but something terrible, something she couldn't recall, had occurred. But now Spencer would be paying her a visit, and she would see, she would _know_ if his smiles were genuine. Mothers knew. And perhaps she knew better than most, because she had waded through hell to bring him into the world, give him life. She had not been the best mother, but even in her terror of the things she saw without the pills, the child she'd given birth to had been worth it. More irony, then, that the father who would have wanted more children hadn't even seen fit to take the boy with him.

The sun was bright, even though it was November and the days were very short. This close to Christmas, there would be a small party soon, a gathering for the residents of Bennignton. Diana had been in the facility for long enough that she was considered "old guard", almost as if she'd lived there forever. She had a book in her lap. Marcel Proust, one of her favorites. 

"Mom?"

The voice came to her from the right, and Diana looked up from the printed page before carefully marking her place with a leather bookmark, then setting the object aside. The sun had moved, changing the shadows. He'd aged, she could see faint lines on his face. Part of the cost of his job, she supposed. Her nightmares were a product of the disease. His were probably self-imposed.

"You're still drinking too much coffee, aren't you?"

"Yes."

It made the knot in Spencer's chest loosen, that his mother knew who he was. Was herself. Because the next time he visited, she might not be. There were chairs close by, and he took a seat next to her. Her lucidity was like the winter sun - bright while it lasted, but when it waned, it wasn't a surprise.

He poured a cup of water from the plastic pitcher on the table, and she craned her neck to see the brunette hovering just past Spencer's shoulder. The younger woman was wearing sunglasses against the glare of the mid-afternoon sun, and after a moment, she took them off to reveal dark eyes. They looked each other over, and when she stepped more clearly into view, Diana's eyes dropped to the swell of her stomach. 

_Pregnant_

"Mrs. Reid."

Elle said it evenly, feeling the scrutiny and returning it in kind. Managing not to reach for Reid's shoulder, use it as an anchor. She could see the frailty in Spencer's mother, but she could see the strength too. The shades had been folded up and tucked into the neck of her T shirt. 

Diana's eyebrows had lifted even as her lips pursed, and she cut a sideways look at Spencer, who returned her gaze over the rim of his cup. Then she indicated the empty chair next to her son.

"Diana," she said, almost without inflection. "I haven't been 'Mrs.' anyone in years. I just kept the name to avoid confusion."

Elle sat, lowering her growing bulk into the chair. She was just into her second trimester. They'd found an OB/GYN, and she had questioned him about the trip. She snagged a cup for herself, and Spencer filled it with water. "Thanks," she said, and he gave her a slight smile.

The older woman was watching them, and like her son she had an understanding of human nature. Her brilliant, _vulnerable_ son, who had avoided the atom bomb her DNA contained. Or perhaps not. If genius was truly linked to madness, then perhaps he'd gotten a sliver of it after all

"Greenaway," she said, and the brunette nodded. "Elle sounds like an abbreviation. Is it short for Eleanor?"

"No," the former profiler said, slightly amused. "Just Elle. It was my mother's idea." It wasn't the first time she'd gotten questions about her name, and she drank some of her water after watching it swirl around in the cup.

Blue eyes flicked down towards her stomach again. "What do they think? Your parents?"

"They don't." Because why or how would she have told them, the mother she hadn't really spoken to since she'd drifted west and the father she _couldn't_ tell because he'd died when she was a kid? Then again, if the dead sometimes hovered on the other side of the veil, Robert Greenaway might know after all. He might even have been happy about it.

"She's carrying high," Diana said, and Spencer nodded. He'd done his own research even after locating a reliable doctor, spending more than one evening poring over books and his laptop. He was beginning to feel as if could write a book called 'Fatherhood For Dummies.' "I carried you low," his mother said, then lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "Not that that means anything. The odds are just as high for having a boy as a girl, no matter how you carry. Not even modern science can figure out _everything._ "

There was a silence while another orderly walked past the table, and Spencer watched his mother look down at her hands. When he was younger, he'd seen her through some bad patches, and if he knew her at all she was looking back on that, the road to this hospital. When she looked up, her eyes were troubled.

"And you're not worried? Either of you?"

She gestured at their surroundings - the courtyard with its plastic tables and chairs, the white-coated staff, the buildings around them. When Diana was actually _Diana_ and not a stranger even to herself, she was aware of what her illness had wrought. William's leaving was the least of it. Spencer never spoke of his fears about the disease manifesting in him, not to her, but the sense that had alerted her to the danger Gary Michaels posed all those years ago told her he'd worried at the possibility, trying to undo the Gordian knot of what _would_ happen and what _could_ happen.

Spencer turned, found Elle watching him. The pregnancy being an accident had thrown her, but once they'd really had the chance to sit down and talk, he'd found her as fearless as ever. Her bravery had just faltered, it hadn't collapsed. When she winked at him, he smiled. Life was seldom simple, but they were working through it.

"No," she said, and he shook his head simultaneously. "No, I'm not, Diana. Like you said, there's no guarantee of anything. But I'm ready for whatever happens. I know we don't really know each other yet, but when we do, you'll see I'm nothing if not stubborn."

The older woman considered the brunette's words, and perhaps despite herself she smiled a bit. The young were resilient, and though Elle was right and they _didn't_ know one another, she could see a toughness in her. Even if it was one that had had to be repaired, it would serve her well. She picked up her book from the table, rose from her chair. The sun had moved again.

"They'll be serving lunch soon," she said, and Spencer offered Elle his left hand when he got to his feet. She interlocked their fingers and kissed the knuckle of his index finger. Diana hid the smile, but inwardly she was relieved. There were still questions, but they could discuss them over lunch. Boy or girl? Carrying high might be a sign, but every pregnancy was different. Not to mention a risk. Her son had proven that he was stronger than most already. 

She only hoped that Elle was just as strong. Just in case.


End file.
